


An Indulgence

by ama



Category: Justified
Genre: (FINALLY), Casual Sex, Episode Tag, F/M, One Night Stands, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Resolved Sexual Tension, Riding, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 17:44:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6620215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ama/pseuds/ama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post "Get Drew." Rachel finally makes a move.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Indulgence

She’s had two bourbons when she makes her play. They’re sitting at Raylan’s kitchen table, faint light filtering from the living room window and a single lightbulb struggling to reach them. She sets her glass down and stands, running a hand through her hair absently.

“I should probably go,” she says.

“Aw,” Raylan says. He chides her, makes an insulted face, and Rachel smiles.

“Sorry, cowboy. I need a shower; I smell like a coal train.”

He stands and puts a hand on her elbow, holding his bourbon with the other. His arms form a loose circle around her.

“I think you smell fine.”

“Spoken like a true Harlan boy,” she says, cocking her head, letting him hear the Tennessee in her voice. Raylan gives her a dazzling smile.

“Guilty as charged.” He leans closer. “One more drink.”

Rachel holds his gaze for a moment and sees something shift in his eyes. She looks at the glass in his hand.

“All right,” she says, “one more drink.”

She takes his glass and drains it, and leans around him to set the empty glass on the table. She looks up at him again but half a breath later it’s happening, he’s bending down and she’s reaching up to rest three fingers against his jaw as he kisses her.

Her knees feel liquid; she’s not sure if the alcohol is hitting her or if it’s Raylan’s kiss, but his mouth is slick with bourbon so she doesn’t think there’s much difference. He kisses with a single-minded intensity, holding her body close against his and demanding every ounce of her attention. His arm wraps against her waist and soon her breath is coming heavy. She pulls away.

He doesn’t let her go anywhere--the kiss stops but he stays close, his forehead pressed against hers and their breath mingling between them. Rachel tilts her mouth up, cautiously. She sucks his bottom lip into her mouth and releases it; she presses a barely-there kiss to the corner of mouth and draws back again. Raylan lets her, though he tracks her movements, never putting too much space between them. She presses her palms flat on his stomach and pushes, and he chuckles low in his chest as he allows himself to be backed against the kitchen wall. He kisses her again, slow this time, and his hands come to rest on her ass.

“Awfully forward, cowboy,” she says breathlessly. She slips her hands under his shirt and feels the heat of his skin against hers.

“As opposed to you, the very _picture_ of modesty.”

Rachel laughs. He kisses her through her laughter and every touch is like a spark of electricity. She shivers. She lifts one hand and twines it in the fine hair on the back of his neck, the other trailing slowly up his chest. He has a good chest; she has allowed herself to admire it once or twice in the locker room at the office, though she’s had to be subtle because she knew she would never hear the end of it.

She’ll probably never hear the end of this, either, and silently resolves to never, ever tell Tim.

Thoughts of Tim are driven from her mind when Raylan casually starts to play with the buttons of her shirt. He slips one open, and then another, and then Rachel steps back. She smiles at him, eyes heavy-lidded, and walks backwards towards his bedroom. She opens the front of her shirt, lets it hang open so he can see her bra--black, utilitarian for work but not too frumpy either--before she strips off her blazer and blouse at once. He stalks towards her, a grin playing at his lips. Rachel sits on the bed and he stops at the doorway and chuckles.

“You want me to put on a show?” He offers. “Little honky tonk music?”

He puts his fingers in his belt loops and wiggles his hips.

“Mm,” Rachel says. “Gimme a little spin, baby.”

She twirls her finger and Raylan snorts as he takes off his jacket. He loosens his tie and tosses it off the room, and slowly turns around as he pulls off his shirt, too. Rachel watches the light play over the muscles of his back. When his gaze meets hers again she leans back until she’s reclining on the bed, completely on display, and she closes her eyes and waits. Her blood’s been up for weeks--she feels  _ good _ like this, open and enticing, knowing for a fact that he wants her. Leaving Joe’s been good for her. She knows what she’s worth and she wants Raylan to show her he knows, too.

He leans over her, standing beside the bed, and kisses her lower stomach. Her breath hitches. His mouth moves up, trailing between her breasts, up to her throat.

“Wrong way,” Rachel mutters. She runs a hand through his hair.

“Women,” Raylan says, shaking his head sadly. “Only want one thing.”

He pushes her up further on the mattress and straddles her hips. He reaches around to the clasp of her bra and unhooks it, and cups her breasts. His touch is reverent; his lips are soft. Rachel’s grip on his hair tightens and she rolls her hips against the bulge in his jeans. His groan is muffled against her skin and the press of his mouth becomes harder, more insistent.

“Enough of this crap,” Rachel says. She shoves Raylan’s jeans down over his thighs and slips her hand inside his boxers.

“Shit,” he whispers, more to himself than to her, and his eyes flutter closed. His tongue laps at her nipple, and then he pulls away with a regretful sigh. “As little as I want to ask you to stop, I think we’re past that, aren’t we, darling?”

“I agree.”

He strips off his pants and his boxers and tosses them out of the way, and helps her extricate herself from his pants.

“I’m not wearing my whore panties,” she says primly, unable to resist the dig, and Raylan flashes her a long-suffering look. One arm is wrapped around her waist and with the other hand he pulls down her underwear, just to her knees; he kisses her lower stomach and without further ado slips his fingers inside her.

His hands are cold and her hips jerk, but she can feel, right away, how wet she is, how easily his fingers brush into her vulva. His thumb presses softly against her clit and she bites her lip because damnit, she doesn’t want him to realize how much he’s affecting her already.

“You know what I meant, Rachel,” he says in light voice. “Don’t tell me there’s a difference between your comfy everyday wear, and the kind you wear when you’re anticipating the attentions of some strikingly handsome young gentleman.”

His fingers pause for a moment and he leans down and licks her, and a moan stutters out from her chest.

“Come here,” she demands, bypassing the banter.

Raylan sits up with the smug look of a man who knows he’s won, and his cock is heavy against her thigh as he presses hot kisses to her neck. Rachel rolls her hips and lets her hands travel over his back; she digs her nails into the meat of his ass and Raylan laughs breathlessly. He kisses her on the mouth, murmurs “yes ma’am,” against her lips, and leans off the bed to grab a condom from the bedside table. She kicks her panties off her legs.

When he enters her, his breath hitches and a drawn-out, masculine groan escapes him. He drops his head to her shoulder.

“Fuck,” he hisses. He kisses the side of her head. “Y’okay?”

“Yeah,” she breathes. There is heat coiling in her belly, it’s been so long since she felt this good, this loose and comfortable in a man’s bed, and at his first slow thrust she lets out a soft cry.

Raylan grins, slow and filthy, and Rachel rolls her eyes at him.

“Shut up,” she giggles.

“Happily.” He rolls his hips against hers again, pleasure cresting like a wave between them. “I have always thought that actions do speak louder than words.”

He fucks her slow and gentle for a few moments, trading feather-light kisses, and then the angle begins to frustrate him. He shifts on the bed until he’s in a steadier position, and lifts one of Rachel’s legs, wraps it high around his back, and begins to thrust with greater force. Rachel’s head hits the pillow and her mouth falls open, although for a moment she can’t make a sound. The heel of her foot is thumping against Raylan’s back; it’ll leave a bruise.

“Jesus Christ,” Raylan mutters under his breath. He leans forward and the angle means that there’s a steady pressure on her clit, and Rachel’s silence breaks.

“Yes--yes, oh God, Raylan--”

It shouldn’t surprise her, that he’s good at this. There are enough notches in his bedpost to attest to his skill, but still she’s impressed at the way he fucks her. He slows down just when he should, his hips snap when they ought to. He talks in bed--that shouldn’t surprise her, he’s always talking, unless he’s in trouble--asks her if she likes this or that, groaning her name when she digs her fingertips into his back. Rachel’s not a talker but she makes her opinion known anyway.

She loses track of time. The minutes don’t seem to pass uniformly--they leap forward when he speeds up, drag their feet when he slows down to tease her. But after a while there are no breaks, and Raylan’s easy drawl falls silent. He pants against her shoulder, fucking her fast and deep, and Rachel takes a solid grip on his ass and urges him on. Low, keening cries escape her, broken by the occasional gasp and Raylan’s name, and her first orgasm comes unexpectedly. She slams her head back on the pillow, moaning recklessly, and her whole body shivers; he just kisses her neck, keeps up his pounding rhythm. There’s another orgasm in her, she can feel it, but for a moment it’s too much, and she hits his arm.

“Stop--just--a minute--”

Raylan whines. He collapses against her as Rachel gulps in air.

“Good?” he says hopefully. She laughs at him and pushes at his chest.

“Turn over.”

Raylan rolls onto his back and she throws her leg over his hip. For a moment she rolls her hips in the air, reacquainting herself with the motion and feeling that odd emptiness that comes from suddenly not having his cock in her.

“Goddamn,” he mumbles. “Goddamn.”

He reaches up with both hands to cup her breasts and then he slides them down her sides, taking hold of her waist. Rachel sinks onto his cock and rocks, and he pulls her close.

“You want the hat?” He offers, swallowing thickly.

Rachel laughs. She rides him gently at first, slow, but then she finds that she likes the strangled sound he makes and she builds up to their former speed. The bed creaks, the headboard slamming against the wall, and she would be embarrassed except Raylan’s the one who chose to live in this trashy college bar, and if anything can be heard over the pounding of the music downstairs, she really doesn’t give a shit. A second orgasm is bearing down upon her--she can feel it coming--and her rhythm stutters as the muscles in her thighs tightened.

Raylan swears under his breath and pushes himself up on one hand. He begins to thrust up, meeting every crash of her hips, and the air is full with the slap of skin and the headboard and their voices breaking. Rachel almost-screams when she comes. It’s too low in her throat, too guttural, to be a real scream, she thinks--but Raylan doesn’t seem to mind, because he shouts and his head falls against his chest.

“Ra-- chel--” he gasps, still undulating up against her. “Fuck.  _ Jesus _ .”

They’re still for one moment, grasping each other, sweating and listening to their fluttering heartbeats. Then Rachel lifts one shaking leg and falls onto the bed at his side. She pillows her head and closes her eyes.

“Well,” she says breathlessly after a minute. “The bathroom stall wasn’t wrong.”

Raylan lets out a breathless huff of laughter. He reaches over with one hand, and she doesn’t look at him but she can feel him delicately brush back her hair. She swallows thick. He stands and for a minute she hears him walking around the apartment; when he sits down again she opens her eyes and sees him looking at her with that mild amused face he has so often.

“I do aim to please,” he says in an amused voice, and he leans down for a kiss. It lasts for longer than she expects, but Rachel doesn’t break it--it’s a sweet, warm kiss and she’d like to draw it out. Raylan is the one who draws back, and then he kisses her again, shorter this time, and then he lies down. They’re both naked, but they make no attempt to cover themselves.

“You know this didn’t happen, right?” Rachel says quietly. Sweat is cooling on her back.

It takes Raylan a moment to respond.

“How do you figure?”

She props herself up on her elbows. Raylan doesn’t look hurt, so much as vaguely bewildered, and she wonders if this is the first time he’s been on the other side of this conversation.

“In three years, maybe less, the chief’s chair is going to be empty. One of us is going to fill it, and when we do… this didn’t happen.”

“I don’t intend to stay in Kentucky that long.”

He says it nonchalantly, and sways forward to start kissing on her neck.

“Sure you don’t. But on the off chance you do…”

“Never happened,” he promises. “Well, if this was my one shot, I hope I acquitted myself well.”

“Adequately,” Rachel shrugs. The vigorous energy has gone out of them, but she still likes the feel of his kisses. Her skin is both hypersensitive and oddly _ thick _ \--velvet, not silk--and the smooth drag of his lips makes her want to melt into the bed.

“Have to admit,” he mumbles after a minute. “I didn’t expect it to happen at all.”

Rachel felt a sheepish smile sneaking on her face and she tried to suppress it, pressing her lips together.

“It almost happened earlier,” she said in a light voice.

“What do you mean?” he asks, looking up with a quizzical grin. She turns her head.

“Last week. You don’t really think I would come drink in this kind of place for fun, do you?”

Understanding dawns on Raylan’s face, and he laughs.

“My goodness. Rachel Brooks, you came here with the intent of seducing me? Right after--”

He stops himself.

“Right after I left my husband. Yeah. There was no--” she says quickly. “I mean--” Her cheeks feel hot. “I came here because I had left my husband and wanted to get lucky. I didn’t leave him so that I could come here and get lucky.”

“Of course. I’m honored.” He starts kissing her again, and then pauses. “What about Lindsey?”

“You would have turned me down for Lindsey?” she asks, her eyebrows raised, and she can feel him grinning against her.

“Probably not.”

She closes her eyes again and winds her fingers through his hair again. After a few sleepy minutes, she realizes that his mouth has dropped to the space between her breasts, then to her stomach. “Where are you going?” she asks with a laugh.

Raylan has wiggled to the foot of the bed and he looked up with a boyish grin.

“One for the road?”

He bends his head down and for half a moment she thinks of calling him off, because her every nerve feels scraped and flayed. But he licks into her lazily, and she can tell it is more a bedtime story than a race to the finish line. She lays back and closes her eyes and lets the gentle pleasure roll over her. After a moment, she crosses her arms behind her head and snorts at the picture she must make. If this is the single life, she’s going to enjoy it, damnit.

She still smells like coal.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm telling you, these two have OFF THE WALL chemistry, and I'm 90% sure Rachel visited in 4.3 with the intention of hooking up with Raylan, and in one of his sex scenes with Lindsey he clearly makes an attempt at post-coital oral, which Rachel Brooks of all people deserves.
> 
> Their celebrity couple name is RayRay.


End file.
